


We’re matching!

by Zoya113



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Based around the one highschool chapter from that one fic I wrote, Gen, Highschool Time, sycamore supreme race, they are friends in highschool thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya113/pseuds/Zoya113
Summary: Melissa tries to explain to Paul that changing yourself isn’t going to stop him getting bullied. She likes him the way he is anyways.
Relationships: Melissa & Paul Matthews
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	We’re matching!

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sitting on a very big stack of fics no one is interested in but me hence my absence but u can have this one if u want lmao

“Hey, at least we’re matching,” Melissa managed to smile when Paul picked her up from the nurse’s office, medical pads taped to her bandaged up knees. 

“That looks bad,” Paul gulped. 

She rolled her eyes, her tone betraying her smile. “They pushed me over on the gravel. What happened to you?” She pointed at his jeans, which weren’t so muddy when they had seen each other at recess. 

“They pushes me over during sport,” he tried to brush the mud off, but they had stained. 

“Do you reckon they’ll strike twice in one day?” She slipped her bag off her shoulder to pull out her lunchbox as they walked. She was walking stiffly. “Probably not, right?” She paused to think before shaking her head. “Let’s play it safe, Paul. Let’s go sit on the other side of the oval.” 

He gestured to her hair. 

“Oh yeah. One of my clips fell out.” She adjusted the butterfly clip in her hair, trying to overwork it to make up for the one she had lost. “They crushed it when they ran off.” She shrugged, biting into her sandwich. “I’ve got like a billion at home though.” 

“It’s not very fair,” he murmured like he would get in trouble for speaking out loud. 

“Hey, we’ve complained before and it did nothing for us. Teachers don’t care.” She glanced up at him, he was bumping his hands together because he had nothing to hold on to. “Don’t feel bad, Paul.”

“I can’t help it,” he confessed. “It’s like they’re in my head, too.” 

They crossed the oval to find a grassy spot where they could see who was coming their way. 

“Why do they bully you, Paul?” She offered, offering him half of her sandwich, but he never had an appetite much these days. 

Paul liked most things about his sophomore companion. He didn’t like how many question she had though. Most of the time she answered those things herself. 

“‘Caus your funny,” even if it was delayed enough to stress Paul, she did answer for herself eventually. 

“Funny?” 

“Yup,” she was quiet at least while she was chewing. “To them. The other boys.”   
She gestured out vaguely to the sports oval, putting the crusts of her sandwich down to pick a daisy from the grass. 

“Oh.” 

She collected another flower and her collection was distracting enough to make her bite down on her tongue and get silent. 

“I think it’s sad you try to be all ‘one of the guys’ around them,” she started again as she curled two of the stems together. 

Paul’s heart skipped a beat. Why did she want to talk about this? 

“You stopped bringing your cards everywhere,” she pointed out. He had, he was surprised she noticed. “Which sucks. Because you really like them!” 

“Yeah,” he tried to grasp on to that part of the conversation and change the topic. “I brought a new pack this weekend, and there were twenty one cards instead of twenty.” 

“Lucky!” She cooed, pressing another set of stems together. “You know, just because kids throw slurs at me every second class doesn’t mean I’m in a rush to a conversion camp.” 

Paul mumbled, crossing his legs and trying to rub the mud off again. 

“You just gotta own it, Paul,” she tied the ends of the stems together, making herself a small crown of flowers and dropping it onto her head. Most of it fell apart on impact. “You want one? There’s plenty more flowers.” 

“Oh, no. It’s fine. I’m fine,” he did pick a flower for himself though, tucking it into his pockets. He wasn’t sure why. 

“Ah. Your loss.” She stretched out her legs, showing off her bandages. “I swear, there was a rock embedded in my knee.” 

“Owning it won’t help,” he suddenly spoke up, looking at Melissa to see if she understood. “If you keep doing what they hate they won’t stop.”

“No,” she scoffed, elbowing him. “No. They literally just want a reaction. If you show them you aren’t bothered they’ll give up.” 

He pointed at her knees. “Well that’s a little rough. They haven’t forgotten yet.” 

“I think they have, actually,” she was growing red in the face. “Me being gay is last weeks news. Keira broke up with her boyfriend at her bat mitzvah. Now everyone is picking on him.” 

“Then why are they still being mean to you?” 

“Ah. Honestly pal? I think it’s by proxy.”

“Oh. Because you hang out with me?” He swallowed hard, shuffling away. He really didn’t want her to stop being his friend. He didn’t have many other of those. 

“Maybe,” she shrugged, lifting up what was left of her flower crown. “But I like you, Paul,” she dropped it down on his head. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend over this,” She nudged him. 

“But maybe you should! Because it’s bad when you get hurt,” he didn’t want to argue too hard just in case she agreed. 

“No Paul,” she adjusted his flower crown. It had fallen apart now. It was just a few daisies, and she tucked them into his hair. “Just like I said. You’ve gotta own it.”


End file.
